


On The Hot Seat

by CongratulationsBaby



Series: Australia's Prize Catch [3]
Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:54:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23620087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CongratulationsBaby/pseuds/CongratulationsBaby
Summary: Set before 'Behind the Cameras' in same A/U where Franky is a contestant of a reality TV show and Bridget is the Production Assistant assigned to her.Bridget has Franky in for a Hot Seat interview following a big fight in the mansion, but pushes too far and learns more about the contestant than she bargained for.
Relationships: Franky Doyle/Bridget Westfall
Series: Australia's Prize Catch [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1832278
Comments: 10
Kudos: 36





	On The Hot Seat

**Author's Note:**

> A/N
> 
> Requested by Joftieloco - hope it is what you were looking for :)
> 
> Thank you to all who have read, given kudos, and left comments on my stories so far - I've loved writing them and it's always so energising in a new fandom, especially in one that has so many great authors!
> 
> Warning for this one: mentions of abuse as the interview involves Franky talking about her past and about Marie briefly - apologies to any Marie Winter fans but I needed a way to bring Franky's past up and Marie's manipulations and Kaz' anger at her in the show seemed like a good means of doing it. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Wentworth or any of the characters, don't sue me and all that jazz.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy!

**On The Hot Seat**

Bridget double checked the camera, making sure the red light was on and the chair was in the frame. This was her third Hot Seat interview of the day, but the one that she was most looking forward to as she hadn’t spoken to Franky for a week.

She actually wasn’t scheduled to see her for another few days. However, there was a big fight between the contestants the evening before and Vera wanted to capitalise on the drama and tension of it with impromptu interviews following the event. A scathing comment from Kaz Proctor toward Marie Winter had resulted in a heated argument which then exploded into a fist fight. Several black eyes, a few busted lips, and a broken rib or two later, the contestants had been split up, treated by medical staff, and eventually calmed down. Since then, there was a palpable tension in the mansion and instead of concerned, Vera had been excited by the sudden turn of events. She immediately called the production team in and told them she wanted interviews from all the contestants.

“ _This will look great for ratings and it will keep Joan happy up top,”_ she had told them with a small, strict smile and no-nonsense tone.

Bridget had already called in Allie Novak, who had been both incredibly bewildered by how the argument had escalated so quickly and relieved that her fellow contestant Bea Smith had avoided any serious injury beyond a black eye. Bridget had smiled inwardly at the young blonde’s concern, keeping a note of that unfolding relationship for later. Her second interview had been with Kim Chang, who had found it all very exciting and encouraged a few of the contestants, though she stayed near the edges of the fight.

Last on her list for the day was Franky. The tattooed brunette had avoided the initial argument as best she could from what Bridget had seen but had got involved as it grew heated and threw a punch or two when she was stuck in the middle of the brawl.

This surprised Bridget. Though Franky had only been in the mansion for a few weeks, from what Bridget could tell she was fairly laid-back, flirtatious, and preferred the prospect of fucking to fighting. It wasn’t like her to elbow someone (particularly someone like Marie) in the face and chest.

As if summoned by her thoughts, there was a knock at the interview room door and Franky sauntered in with a grin. Her smile was marred by the black eye, swollen cheekbone and cut that ran from her top lip to her nose, but it was genuine.

“Gidget,” she nodded her head before throwing herself down in the plush chair and getting comfortable.

“Hi Franky,” Bridget greeted her, knowing the footage would be edited just to the questions. She sat down next to the camera, out of frame, and placed her clipboard with the questions and prompts on her lap. She always liked to observe the pleasantries first.

“So how are you today?”

“Fan-fucking-tastic, thanks,” Franky replied, her smile turning to a wince as she opened her mouth too wide.

“You look like you’ve been in the wars.”

“Slipped in the shower,” Franky winked.

Bridget chuckled and glanced down at the clipboard to lead her in.

“So, I heard it was a pretty big night last night, yeah?”

“Was it?”

Bridget changed tact immediately, her first few interviews with Franky telling her exactly how to get the contestant to open up. It was starting to become a natural rhythm between the two women. Franky didn’t do subtlety.

“The altercation between Kaz and Marie,” she said directly, “what was it all about?”

“Kaz said some shit about Marie taking advantage of vulnerable men and women,” Franky replied, her hands locking behind her head as she slouched further in the chair, “and I guess Marie flipped out.”

“And how did you become involved?”

Franky shrugged, but Bridget saw a slight tension in the young woman’s posture.

“Dunno,” she responded, “Kaz started throwing punches and suddenly I was there in the middle getting ten levels of shit knocked out of me.”

“That would certainly explain the face,” Bridget smiled encouragingly and Franky grinned, relaxing slightly.

“Yeah you should see the others. Got a few punches in myself, y’know Gidge.”

“I don’t doubt it. So, how did you feel about the argument? Did it perhaps make a deeper impression on you?”

“Nuh,” Franky shook her head decisively and again Bridget saw the tension, “they were both just stirring shit, s’got nothing to do with me.”

“Come on, Franky,” Bridget prompted her gently as she gripped the clipboard, “you must have felt _something_ to have wound up in the middle of a physical fight.”

“Wrong place, wrong time.”

“Kaz accused Marie of mistreating charges under her care, how did that make you feel? Did you find yourself agreeing with Kaz or feeling sorry for Marie? Something made you get involved, Franky.”

Bridget could see Franky was becoming agitated by the questioning, her foot rhythmically tapping against the floor harder and harder as her nostrils flared. _Come on, Franky,_ Bridget thought desperately, _just give me something so we can both get through this quickly._ She hated bringing Franky to the brink of anger, but she knew it was her job to push and prod the contestants.

“Nuh, I wanna stop this,” Franky said suddenly, moving to get up.

_No, no, no._ If Franky walked out now, Vera and Joan would smell blood when they saw the recording and circle like sharks. They’d know exactly where to stab Franky and, with no love lost between them and the underdog contestant, they’d formulate a way to use it and take her out. Bridget had not known Franky for long, but she felt a pull toward the brunette that she couldn’t yet come to terms with, one that pushed her to protect her.

“Franky,” Bridget’s tone brought Franky to a halt as she stood up from chair, “please, just help me help you and we’ll be done, yeah?”

Franky was silent as she appraised the blonde, sizing her up. Bridget could feel the building anger rolling off of her in waves.

“Just give me something, _anything_ , for the audience to get to know you that bit better,” the blonde pleaded, “they want to know what makes you tick.”

_I want to know what makes you tick._

“Yeah, well _fuck_ the audience!” Franky yelled suddenly, wiping at her nose with her grey hoodie and wincing as she caught a tender spot.

“Franky-“

“- _No_!” Franky interrupted, “they have _no_ idea! _You_ have no idea!”

“Let’s talk then,” Bridget wedged the clipboard between her thigh and the arm of her chair, opening her arms wide with her palms up in a non-threatening gesture, “talk to me, Franky. Why did that argument have such a big impact on you? Was it something Kaz said? Was it something Marie did?”

“Why the _fuck_ does it matter!?”

“It matters because you elbowed Marie in the face _and_ cracked her rib-“

“-Yeah, well, she deserved it!” Franky screamed, jabbing her finger accusingly at Bridget.

“Why did she deserve it, Franky?” Bridget remained calm, though her voice rose in volume to meet Franky’s, “why did you hit her?”

“Because she’s just like my _fucking_ mum!”

Silence reigned following the statement and Bridget watched as Franky seemingly deflated in front of her. The brunette swiped at the tears running down her bruised cheeks, and with a small decisive nod, grabbed the hems of her hoodie and t-shirt and pulled them up, revealing her stomach to the blonde and the camera. Bridget swallowed a gasp at the large cherry blossom tattoo that crept up Franky’s side and branched on to her stomach and up under her bra. Each blossom, Bridget could see, was a faint circular scar and she felt tears prick the corners of her eyes at the knowledge of what Franky was showing her.

“When I was ten years old,” Franky choked out, her distress and the latent anger lacing her voice as tears continued to fall, “my dad left and mum blamed _me._ She was a drunk… and always off her face. She would yell at me, threaten me, hit me. Then one day, she discovered a new way to torture me.”

Franky gestured at the scars and Bridget remained still, her breathing shallow as she tried to take it all in and remain calm for Franky’s sake.

“She put out her cigarettes on me.”

Franky finally dropped the hoodie and her red eyes sought out Bridget, the anger ebbing away. The blonde saw only sadness and… disappointment? She felt her heart break.

“When Marie stood there, looking _so_ fucking smug, I saw my mum. They’re one and the same… and that’s why I hit her.”

Franky held her arms out in admission and then dropped them to her sides heavily. She grimaced and wiped her eyes once more, the truth now laid out between them. She was left standing, no doubt waiting for Bridget’s verdict of whether she was still worthy of the Production Assistant’s time.

Bridget remained silent, her eyes wide but never leaving Franky’s face.

“So how do you think the audience will like me now, hey?” the tattooed brunette asked brokenly.

In response, Bridget let out a shaky breath and offered a tentative smile.

“Are we done now?” Franky sniffed and tried to put on her usual façade of indifference, “did you get what you were looking for?”

“Franky…”

“Nuh,” Franky waved off Bridget’s attempts to talk, “give the audience a great show, yeah? Hope it was worth it.”

She walked over to the door without a glance backwards and slammed it behind her. Bridget sighed and fell back into her chair, her hands covering her face as she tried to regulate her breathing.

“Fuck,” she murmured.

She’d pushed Franky too far, she knew that. Bridget turned to the camera, fiddling with the buttons to turn it off. If she took this footage to the production suite, it would make its way to Vera and they’d make it into a spectacular hour of viewing for the public. However, in doing so she’d lose the confidence and tentative friendship of Franky, the contestant who had got under her skin from day one and with whom Bridget found a kindred spirit.

She picked up her clipboard and stared blankly at the page of questions and prompts, debating her options but knowing ultimately that it would only end one way. She had made up her mind the moment Franky had walked out that door really.

_Fuck._

She was in trouble.

****

Three days later, Franky sat at the kitchen island, a cup of coffee in hand and a law textbook open in front of her. They were only allowed to bring in a few books (“the audience want drama and romance, not hours of silent reading” Joan had told them sternly), and Franky had chosen two law books to not only prepare her but to remind her of what she was in the mansion for.

She certainly needed the reminder after her Hot Seat interview with Bridget.

Franky let out a groan and ran a hand over her face as she remembered the shambles that was her last conversation with the Production Assistant. Franky hadn’t meant to be so defensive, she knew that Gidge was just doing her job and keeping the audience entertained with thoughts of alliances and divisions between contestants. However, her line of questioning and mentions of Marie _fucking_ Winter brought to the surface everything that Franky had tried so hard to bury.

The contestants weren’t allowed to see what was being aired, but Franky hoped that Gidge had at least edited the footage to not make her out to be a violent and angry child masquerading as an adult. She wondered if the trust built between them in so short a time entitled her to that much.

_Hopefully Gidge feels the same about me as I do about her,_ she thought morosely.

Franky knew that she was interested in Bridget, a feeling not unusual in itself to the tattooed brunette. However, whereas Franky often prided herself on a no-strings-attached approach to women, with the older blonde she felt something more than casual attraction. Maybe it was because her Gidget was unattainable, or maybe it was because she was unlike any woman that she had met before, either way Franky felt her mind consumed with thoughts of her. She wondered how Gidge might like her coffee (did she prefer coffee to tea?), or what her favourite colour was.

_Not that it matters now. She knows just how fucked up you are._

“Fuck!” Franky slapped the kitchen island with both hands.

“Doyle!” Linda Miles, one of the Production Assistants, called out. Franky turned to the unsmiling woman clutching a clipboard.

“What now?” She asked, agitated.

Linda raised an eyebrow but didn’t rise to the temper tantrum.

“You’re due for your Hot Seat interview with Westfall.”

Franky scrunched her face in confusion.

“But I had one a few days ago-”

“-Yeah, nice try. Schedule says you’re in today so don’t think you’re getting out of this one,” Linda pointed toward the interview room, “don’t keep Westfall waiting or it puts us all behind.”

Franky didn’t bother responding, her excitement at seeing Bridget again, _a chance to clear the air,_ outweighing her need to correct Linda.

****

“Gidget?” Franky asked tentatively, appearing through the doorway.

Bridget turned her tired eyes toward Franky and her face lit up with a welcoming smile. She had a hard time sleeping since her and Franky’s last encounter and that, coupled with her attempts at covering up any evidence of the last interview, gave her an exhausted edge. Vera had chewed her up and spat her out when she learned that Bridget’s interviews with Allie and Kim had ‘overran’ and that she wouldn’t be able to interview Franky for a few days. However, the explosive interviews provided by Kaz and Marie had kept a lot of the attention away from her and Vera was happy with the footage they were putting out. Overall, her reprimand had certainly been lighter than she had expected.

“Franky, g’day. Please take a seat.”

Franky slumped in the chair, confused.

“So,” Bridget clutched her clipboard as she smiled at Franky, “how are you today?”

“I’m…” Franky tested the water, “pretty good, thanks.”

“Glad to hear it,” Bridget looked down at her clipboard, “so… I heard it was a pretty big night a few days ago, yeah?”

She knew the moment it clicked with Franky, as she saw the bright smile appear on the tattooed brunette’s healing face. Franky ran her tongue along her teeth, her eyes twinkling with amusement and… was that gratitude?

“Was it?” She asked innocently.

Bridget chuckled, knowing that this moment was worth it

**Author's Note:**

> Read, kudos, comment, enjoy!
> 
> Any requests, suggestions, prompts for this Universe, let me know and I'll do my best :)
> 
> Happy Easter, everyone!


End file.
